


The Bat and His Cat

by Batsymomma11



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Catwoman (Comics)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Strained Relationships, cleptomania
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-06-27 21:46:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15693999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batsymomma11/pseuds/Batsymomma11
Summary: Batman has never met anyone quite like Catwoman. She's exciting, attractive, and oh so bad for him. But he doesn't seem to able to stop himself. She's one of a kind.****Story is on hold. I've got a few prjoects going on at once and needed to take a break. I am not abandoning this one, but it will be a bit till i can get back to it. Thanks!!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Occasional language and sexual references. Nothing explicit. Characters are not mine and neither is DC.  
> Story is mine.

            He stared, transfixed by those long limbs encased in leather just a tad too tight to be comfortable and felt his stomach go painfully hollow. She was a vision in black, hair bound and hidden beneath her feline cap but her eyes were left bare. And they were a vibrant shade of green.

            She could be anyone. A stranger. A friend. A woman he’d seen walking down the street and hadn’t given a second glance.

            “Well, meow, meow. It’s about time we met. I’ve heard a lot about you Batman.”

            Her voice was all smoke and secrets.

            He blinked, forcing his eyes off the place where a zipper disappeared into her cleavage. He knew better than to let his focus slip; he needed to keep his thoughts out of danger and on task. “I can’t say it’s a pleasure. I’m assuming you’re responsible for the alarms.”

            “Guilty,” she purred, diamond bright claws glinting in the streetlights, “Wanna do a strip search on me?”

            If she wasn’t so breathtaking, she’d be tacky. But somehow, her blatant and over the top attitude made her all the more appealing. Catwoman was the opposite of everything he’d normally find attractive in a woman. He liked gloss, manners, and sophistication. She was anything but that. He couldn’t say he’d ever met a woman like her before. Then again, it would be hard to top a fem fatale dressed in black leather calling herself the Catwoman.

            “You aren’t going to make this easy on me, are you?”

            “Not a chance tiger. I play rough.”

            He snorted, shaking his head, “Then you’ll make an excellent addition to Blackgate Prison.”

            “You’ll have to catch me first.”

            She laughed, turning on a booted heel and volleyed over an alley with one elegant leap. Sighing, Batman had no choice but to follow, though he knew it would be more of a game than he was willing to play. The chase only lasted minutes, but even so, he was impressed with her stamina and even more with her endurance as they ran the gamut. Over dark alleyways, through smog choked air and out till the bay was a sliver beneath yellowed street lamps.

            He stopped her where the wharf met the city and men still worked late into night offloading a freighter. The harsh snap of metal on metal kept the air from quieting.

            “Stop. It’s the end of the road for you.”

            “Is it?” she quipped, breathless with chin lifted high. Her pride was as valuable to her as the diamonds she’d taken from the vintage jewelry store on fifth. It was apparent she wasn’t going to take a hit on either front easily.

            “You play like it’s a game, but you’re gambling with your life. Why?”

            She was standing on the edge of the building, heels brushing the air, chest heaving. “Because I like the excitement. I like the chase and the thrill of being chased. Don’t you? Isn’t this exhilarating?”

            He shook his head, mouth firming into a look of distaste, “I do this for justice. Not excitement. I’m done playing.”

            Batman closed the small gap between them, taking her arm in his grip, expecting little to no fight. He was wrong.

            The cat had claws and she knew how to wield them. Arching her back, she drove her fist straight into his chin and rocked him hard. Batman staggered, corrected, then reached blindly for her quickly escaping limbs. He caught an ankle and brought her down roughly onto the pebble rooftop. Her gasp of shock was rewarding.

            Having regained the upper ground, Batman took no chances as he rolled then pinned Catwoman down to the roof by putting a knee in her back. He cuffed her using one of the black zip ties he had clipped to his belt and only felt mildly guilty when he saw that her cheek was scraped from the gravel. He didn’t like to tussle over an arrest with a woman as a rule. But she’d needed a firm hand.

            “I wasn’t going to sell it.”

            He lifted a brow, “No? That’s right, you just like the thrill. And apparently getting caught.”

            “I like things that sparkle, sue me.”

            He could have laughed, “Why is it that every creep in the country flocks to Gotham like bees to honey? What makes this place a magnet for freaks?”

            She laughed, “Says the man who dresses like a bat and beats the freaks up all hours of the night.”

            “Points to you.”

            Catwoman smiled, casting him a sidelong look as they worked their way down to street level. Once there, Batman signaled the Batmobile, keeping a firm grip on his prey. Undoubtedly, with even the slightest loosening, she’d free herself and be gone. A pretty smoke in the wind. They stood silently for several minutes, waiting in the shadows in companionable silence. Then she spoke and he wished he’d not heard her.

            “I like you.”

            Batman stilled as something akin to friendliness settled within him. She was a criminal. A heathen bent on snubbing the system for the sake of having fun. She was no better than Joker. Harvey. Harley. Or any other of the masked nut-cases he’d taken down.

            He had no business feeling anything towards her. Let alone softness.

            “That worries you.”

            “What worries me, is how long you’ve been stealing from innocent people working hard to make their living. Don’t you care whose meal your taking?”

            “I only pilfered a pair of earrings.”

            “You don’t get to decide what is and isn’t valuable.”

            “A couple hundred dollars, big deal. Small potatoes from that place. Besides, don’t you know what those people support? They want to exterminate every stray animal in the city. They’ve been loud supporters of it ever since that ridiculous Mayor Stanton voiced his unwanted opinion. A fool of a man.”

            He should have guessed she was a bleeding heart for the animal kingdom wearing that getup. She called herself Catwoman for Pete’s sake.

            Batman shook his head, checking his armband for arrival time. The Batmobile was still minutes away. He should have parked closer to his hunting ground. “It’s not your job to get involved. Despite their political or moral differences from yourself. And stealing as payback? Sounds petty.”

            Her back went stiff, “Do you have any animals? Any beloved pets?”

            What did it matter if he answered honestly? “Yes. Your point?”

            “Would you have them euthanized simply because they were a nuisance to the city?”

            “They aren’t strays.”

            “Were they? Could they have been had you not taken them into your home? Aren’t there others like them who could make good pets rather than just a number in a book to be smudged out?”

            She had him there. Though her logic was off-kilter at best. “Look, I think you’ve got a few screws loose but I appreciate what you’re trying to do. Just do it legally and we won’t ever have to see each other again.”

            Silence fell heavily back between them and Batman was grateful for the momentary reprieve. Brief though it was.

            “Why would I do that?” her eyes went to green slits, voice humming like a purr. He should have known what that look in her eyes meant but was too busy doing his best to ignore it. “Especially when I like what I see.”

            She moved fast, fast enough their mouths brushed before he could stop her and hot lead pooled in his belly. An ache, the slowest of burns began in his legs and seized around his chest. Desire had never been so cruel or so potent.

            The scent of lilacs coming from her skin, enveloped and tortured him.

            “Don’t do that.”

            “Why not?” she whispered, breath a whisper on his lips. She might as well have said open sesame for all his willpower. His grip loosened without his consent and she closed the gap.

             Saints, why not? Her mouth was hot on his and demanding. Without thoughts, acting on some deeply buried male instinct, Batman reacted and gave as good as he got. Their mouths tangled, his hands gripped her arms too hard to be kind and he lost sight of anything. Nothing penetrated the cocoon of warmth he’d fallen into and he felt saturated to the bone.

            It was just lust.

            It had just been too many months since he’d really touched a woman and wanted. She had an amazing body and a killer mouth. That was all this was.

He couldn’t possibly be feeling an electrical connection arcing between them. He couldn’t possibly feel like they were touching on more than just a physical level. His heart was throbbing too loudly to think, his actions wild and uncontrolled.  

            Then he felt the knife on his belt slip loose and the blinding warmth shriveled.

            “Damn it,” he hissed, jerking back just fast enough to avoid being nicked.

            “Sorry Bats.”

            It was tempting to curse her. Tempting to blame her for his lapse in judgement but that wouldn’t be fair, not when he’d so easily let her lure him. He’d practically begged to be snagged.

            “It’s not personal,” she whispered, green eyes luminous, mouth red from their kiss.

            He shook his head, a wry smile marking his own mouth, “It is for me now. Be careful Catwoman. I’ll see you again and when I do, it won’t be this easy.”

            She grinned, anticipation and humor marking her pleased, “All talk. You’ll have to show me.”

            “I will.”

            He could chase her again. He could catch her. But he didn’t. Watching her bound off away from the wharf was strangely sweet and he’d already lost this battle the moment their mouths had met. He’d give her this one victory. When he saw her again, they’d see who won round two.

 

            So, she knew the Batman could kiss a woman’s socks off. Grinning and still wearing her leather getup, Selina stooped to pick up her mail and ran a hand down Isis’ back. Her precious feline curled imploringly around her master’s legs, a soft purr humming in approval. Someone was glad to see her mommy.

            “I missed you too darling,” Selina crooned, gathering Isis to her chest as she stepped inside her apartment and locked the door.

            “Shall we make some supper? Would you like a little something extra on your kibble? Of course you would.”

            Happy with the weight of the stolen earrings in her back pocket, Selina Kyle spent the next ten minutes tossing a chicken Caesar salad together and prepping a meal for Isis.

It hardly mattered that she was still rocking a high from her latest snatch or that her mouth still burned from the forbidden kisses she’d all but stolen as well. It was just another night in the world of Catwoman. So, it would be just another night to Selina Kyle.

Though she would be lying if she said she wasn’t looking forward to seeing Batman again. The sooner the better.

Once finished, she took the dinner out onto her fire escape and Isis followed. It was becoming a routine since the spring temperatures had finally come to stay. The city sprawled beneath them, hardly obscured by the thin layer of smog that insisted on always clinging to Gotham’s skirts. If she squinted, it was possible to make out the line of buildings that signaled Bludhaven. Beyond that, from a bird’s eye view Metropolis shown as a gem beyond the murky bay.

            Selina had lived in Gotham for just over a year now.

            It felt like yesterday she’d pulled up stakes and decided she’d do better on her own out from under her family’s watchful gaze. She’d left Chicago with every intention of living a quiet but happy life in the bustling city of Gotham. Her family had been appalled at her choice, though secretly pleased with her decision to go solo. They wanted what was best for her in the end. And Selina was glad of it.

            She worked days in a department store, part-time, simply to fill the hours. She didn’t really need the money. Not when she was careful with her trust fund and her accountant watched her portfolio. She could be living in a penthouse with a full-time staff if she chose to, but that simply wasn’t Selina Kyle’s style. She preferred her solitude.

            She heard the phone ringing in the living room and sighed. That would be her mother. She was sure of it. A week was about the maximum she could make it without hearing from the family in some form or another.

            “Hello?”

            “Dear, it’s been a week. I’ve missed hearing your voice.”

            “I’ve missed you too mom.”

            “Liar,” her mother sighed, “Never mind that. I’m in town darling and I’m dying to see you.”

            “In town?” Selina frowned, looking absently at her sparse living room. She preferred clean lines and little clutter in her home space. White, crème, grey and a few accent colors with lots of green plants. Cat-safe of course.

            “Yes. You know your father and I do business and the occasional social function in Gotham. We’re going to the annual Memorial Children’s Hospital fundraiser. It’s been in the books for months, if you’d bothered to look. Everyone is expected to go. You too.”

            “Me too?” she asked carefully, worrying her bottom lip as she thought of her sparse closet. “I’m not sure I have something for that caliber of a function mom. It slipped my mind. I’m sorry.”

            “I thought you might say that. I’ve got a dress being sent to your shabby little apartment. That is where you still live, isn’t it? It should be there by courier at 2. The limo will be by to pick you up at 5. We’ll go to dinner first and catch up. You know how these fundraisers go. They never serve enough food. But plenty of alcohol.”

            “Yes, I remember.”

            Selina rubbed her temples, sitting on her sofa. The cushions swallowed her frame. “I’m assuming you mean tomorrow, yes?”

            “Well it couldn’t be tonight, could it? It’s late. I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

            “No, of course not. You know I stay up.”

            “I do. I guess that’s why I called. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow dear. Be ready by 5. Your father already selected the restaurant, so I can’t tell you much on that front. But it’ll probably be something formal and stuffy, knowing him.”

            Selina was silent a moment as her mother spoke quietly to one of the servants. Likely the cook about getting her an evening cup of decaf tea. Her mother was a creature of habit. “Well darling, I’ve got to go. You know how your father gets when I dally on the phone. I love you.”

            “Love you too mom. Tell Dad I look forward to seeing him tomorrow.”

            “I will. Get some rest darling. No one likes a woman with bags under her eyes. It’s tacky.”

            The phone disconnected, and Selina remained ensconced on the sofa. Isis was already purring happily on her lap, content to remain as long as Selina did. So she stayed the night on the sofa only briefly wondering what sort of dress her mother had chosen. She hoped it was flashy.

 

            By two, the courier had arrived, and Selina tore open the paper to find a gorgeous red number with a low-cut bust and enough sparkle to bring a grin to her mouth. Her mother might be stodgy and proper, but she knew Selina’s taste well. And was kind enough to cater to it.

            It had been a good many months since she’d been in the social circuit and she’d certainly never stepped into it in Gotham. Chicago knew her face, her demeanor and that she was the only heir to the Kyle fortune. But here, at home, Selina had been careful to keep a low profile. She enjoyed her anonymity and would prefer to keep it that way. But tonight, she was going to turn heads, whether or not she wanted to.

            Thankfully, she was in the mood to be turning them.

            Applying her make-up with care, she went as bold as her dress and chose a pair of gold waterfall earrings to complete the look. Her hair, which was short and jet black, was striking to her heart-shaped face. Selina had always been confident in her looks and had never suffered with a low self-esteem. She was blessed in that. She was too brazen and bright to be dampened in a crowd.

            And it was fortunate that tonight, her own sort of coming out celebration, she’d be sporting such a killer dress.

            She’d have to thank her mother.

            The limo came on time and when she arrived at the restaurant, the meal was as smooth and uneventful as expected. Her parents’ lives revolved around garden parties, stock options and bonds, and whose child was having children. She still got the occasional lingering hopeful looks when her mother mentioned grand-children, or her father brought up a fine young man in his company who had excellent potential. But they knew her well enough not to push.

            Selina wasn’t looking to settle down for anything or anyone. Not when Catwoman had so much work to do.

            They arrived to the fundraiser, fashionably late, as any Kyle worth their salt would do and Selina began hunting for the champagne right away. Mingling was one of her strong suits, but it was done best with a little liquid lubrication.

            “Selina, darling, you look stunning. Go speak with that young man over there. He can’t take his eyes off of you.”

            “Can any man?” her father mused, accepting a drink of the bubbling champagne as a waiter approached them. “Let Selina do her own shopping dear. We have our own schmoozing to do.”

            “Yes, I suppose we do. Good luck darling.”

            “Of course,” Selina smiled, kissing both her parents European-style on the cheeks. They were just proper enough to appreciate the gesture. She’d never known anything different.

            Keeping her expression carefully neutral, Selina surveyed the room and found there was a man who had indeed been unable to take his eyes from her. Tall, dark hair, strong shoulders. He strikingly handsome and looked as debonair as any other bachelor wearing a tuxedo in the room. His eyes were too far away to decipher, and she found his gaze…unsettling. How interesting? Selina liked interesting.

            Lifting her chin and adding a smile for warmth, she strode the length of the ballroom to greet her admirer. He didn’t bother looking away. Nor did he appear squeamish when she stood directly in front of him for appraisal. Selina was impressed when he merely lifted a brow as she purposefully looked him up and down.

            Her stomach muscles jumped when her gaze landed on his. They were cobalt blue and as direct as his posture. Not an inch of softness there.

            “Hello, I don’t know you.”

            His mouth smiled but his eyes didn’t. “Bruce Wayne. Pleasure to meet you Miss?”

            Billionaire playboy. The title didn’t fit the picture he was presenting. She kept her expression light. “Kyle. Selina Kyle.”

            “I know your parents.”

            “Everybody does. I’m sure you’ve met them at this function before. Or any other they like to frequent.”

            “I have. But I’ve never met you. Are you new to Gotham?”

            “Fairly. I moved here a year ago.”

            “Like it so far?”

            She smiled, toying with the edge of her long-stemmed glass to have something to do with her hands. Any other man, she would feel confident she had the upper hand. She would control the push and pull of conversation and most certainly the attraction. But she didn’t feel in control now. She felt—on edge. And attracted. Very attracted to him.

            “Yes, the city is as expected.”

            “Good. I’m glad Gotham is all you hoped for. What do you do for a living?”

            She laughed, “I’m rich, Mr. Wayne. I don’t really do anything.”

            “Really?” he asked softly, though his eyes had already gone to her hands. Without permission, he took one and held it lightly, “You have calloused palms. Not very ladylike for a wealthy woman like yourself.”

            She jerked it back and struggled not to lose her smile. “I go to the gym. Often.”

            “That explains your physique.”

            “My physique? Is there something wrong with an athletic woman?”

            Bruce smiled and this time it reached his eyes. The affect was startling. From cold and removed, to warm interest. A dimple pressed into one cheek and stole a bit of her heart clean away. She’d always been incredibly fond of dimples. Especially on a tall, dark, and handsome man. Unsettling and direct he might have been, but handsome he most certainly was.

            “I find athleticism alluring. Tell me, do always look so lovely in red, or is just this dress that has the whole room staring at you?”

            “You’re very smooth.”

            “I try to be. It helps to keep up with the rumors. I’ve been dating three women at once according to the Gotham Times.”

            “Really? I’d heard it was four. You must be losing your touch.”

            “Apparently. Want to dance?”

            “Dance?” Selina broke eye contact a moment to check the near empty dance floor. They were using a ballroom for the fundraiser, but predictably, there weren’t many brave souls willing to risk the audience. She loved to dance. “I suppose I could be persuaded.”

            “Then I’ll do my best to be persuasive.”

            Taking her hand again, this time in a way that felt more predictable, Selina accepted him easily and followed to the center of the room. Here, she let him spin her into a waltz position and began rocking back and forth. The music swelled around them and she settled into the familiar moves with a sigh of contentment. Now this, was more of what she liked. More of what she was used to.

            His arms made a strong frame and from the ease of which he danced, Selina knew he’d been forced to take dance lessons just like herself. Her appreciation for him grew as the song changed and a waltz became a simplified foxtrot.

            “You dance well.”

            Bruce leaned nearer, his nose brushing her cheek, “And you as well. But I’m distracted by your perfume. What is it? Lilac?”

            Selina felt her face begin to warm, “Yes. Is it too strong?”

            “No. Just enough to drive a man wild,” he laughed but there was something strained in it. He spun her out, then deliberately brought her close to his chest. She could feel the beat of his pulse against her ear. It was fast, just like her own.

            “You make me nervous, Bruce.” She wasn’t sure why she told the truth, but it was probably because she couldn’t see his face at the moment and was feeling brave. She suffered from short bursts of unmitigated bravery. Then was left to deal with the consequences.

            His arms tightened around her, “Is that a good thing?”

            “Yes. No.”

            “Glad we cleared that up.”

            She stopped dancing when the music ended, forcing herself to look back up into those all-seeing eyes. “You unnerve me. And not many men can do that. In fact, no man has done that.”

            “I could say the same myself.”

            “Maybe we could--.”

            “Dear, don’t be a stranger, introduce us to this handsome man.”

            Selina jerked so hard with surprise at the interruption Bruce had to steady her. Eagerly awaiting their introduction, her parents had returned from their rounds and were all smiles. She struggled not to growl.

            “Bruce Wayne, my parents, Mr. and Mrs. Kyle. Whom you’ve already met?”

            “Have we?” her mother feigned ignorance, “My dear, I am so sorry. Being senile and all, we forget things. My, you make a handsome image. Especially with my daughter in your arms. Don’t you think?”

            Bruce smiled, though his eyes were once again remote, “I do. In fact, I was about to ask your daughter to dinner next week.”

            “Don’t stop on our account. In fact, would you care to share our table? I’m sure we could speak with a maître d and get things sorted.” Her father was all but vibrating to be released from the conversation at her mother’s side. He didn’t care for social niceties nearly as much as he had to put on.

            Selina took her father’s hand, “I’d like to dance another with Dad if you don’t mind?”

            Bruce nodded, “Of course. Enjoy.”

            Once out on the floor again, she leaned into her father and smelled pipe smoke mixed with wintergreen. “Mom is going to kill you if she smells that on you again. You promised to quit.”

            “I did. Mostly. Your mother knows how these functions stress me.”

            “Yes, she does.”

            “You like Mr. Wayne.”

            She tipped her chin up, studying her father’s matching green eyes. “Yes. He interests me.”

            “But not like the others. I saw how you reacted when we showed up. Like you were caught with your hand in the cookie jar. I’m just going to warn you, as your father, be careful. The man isn’t known for monogamy.”

            “Dad, don’t believe everything you read in the news.”

            “I’ve seen him take two dates to a function before.”

            “He’s Bruce Wayne. It’s expected. But on a personal level, he’s a different person. It’s public relations.”

            “Maybe,” her father considered, “Even so. Watch yourself. You love quickly and deeply Selina. It’s something I’ve always admired. And feared. Your mother and I can’t protect you from heartache.”

            “Nor would I want you too.”

            He nodded, fatherly duties finished, “I’ve had enough. Thank you for getting me away a moment.”

            “You’re welcome.”

            Dance complete, Selina was strangely disappointed to see that Bruce Wayne was not in fact moved to their table. With a surreptitious study of the room, she couldn’t see him at all.

             “Where’s Bruce?”

            Her mother was already settling into her seat with a plate of shrimp. “He got called away to business. I suppose when you run a multi-billion dollar empire, you have to run at the drop of a hat. Handsome man though. And polite. I like him.”

            “Even though he might be a rake?” Selina asked, smiling at her mother’s winsome look.

            “Especially. Ignore your father’s warnings. He doesn’t have the heart of a woman. I can see good quality material when I want to. It’s there. Anyways, did you see the other young hunk over there? His name was Mr. Cobblepot.”

            “Oswald? The penguin man?”

            Her mother scowled, “He has a long nose. But that isn’t something to turn your own up at. He was handsome. And charming. And rich of course.”

            “Of course. We wouldn’t want to sully the Kyle name with something beneath us.”

            Her mother didn’t miss a beat, “Exactly darling.”

            Shaking her head, Selina stole several of her mother’s shrimp and smiled when she saw her father take her mother’s hand beneath the table. Despite their differences, despite their obvious disapproval of her adventures and wanton behaviors, they were all she had. She loved them. And they loved her.


	2. Chapter 2

            “Alfred!”

            “Yes, Master Bruce?”

            “I can’t find my address book anywhere.”

            “Sir?”

            “My address book? It’s black leather, small, three-ring. I keep names, addresses, business cards in there. It’s practically an encyclopedia by now. How the hell could I have misplaced it?”

            Alfred lifted a graying brow, “It’s in the library, gathering dust. I haven’t seen you use it in ages. Whoever do you need to look up?”

            “It’s personal.”

            “Oh. I see.”

            Bruce shook his head, “It’s not like that. Not yet anyway.”

            “I see.”

            “Stop doing that Alfred.”

            “Doing what Master Bruce? Breathing? Really, you must be more precise as to your fanatic demands. I can’t do everything from merely reading your mind.”

            Bruce took one look at Alfred’s bland expression and laughed. “Forget it. Thank you.”

            Striding to the library, Bruce found the forgotten address book and as Alfred had suggested, it was gathering dust. Flipping through he found the Kyle number and called predictably to the house secretary in Chicago. She directed him to Mrs. Kyle, who gleefully gave him Selina Kyles number after making him promise to update her about their ‘date’.

            There were some perks to being an orphan. Like not having to pander to a family that stuck their noses too deeply into your business.

            He stood a moment in front of the unlit fireplace and considered what he would say to Selina then shook himself. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t been on a date before. He’d been on thousands. And this wasn’t exactly a date either. More, a sort of ambush, with romantic undertones.

            If he wanted to be even more clinical about it, he’d call it a study. A fact-finding mission.

            He’d faked his way through a million kisses, paws and pets. And all for the sake of the mission. For saving Gotham.

            He could easily do this for God’s sake.

            Frowning, Bruce ignored the sweat on his palms and rang the number scratched in his book. It rang twice and then she answered. When she did, he felt the nerves fizzle. He knew what he was doing. He knew what he needed to do. He’d known it the moment he’d gotten a good look at those unforgettable green eyes. They looked even better out of costume than in. 

            “Hello?” her smoky voice over the phone only confirmed what he already knew.

            “Selina, Bruce Wayne. I hope you don’t mind, but I got your number by promising all sorts of things to your mother.”

            Selina laughed, “Of course you did. How have you been?”

            “Busy. But ready to make good on taking you to dinner. What do you say?”

            There was hardly a pause. “I say yes. Where will you be taking me?”

            “I’d like to cook for you.”

            “At your home?”

            “No better way to get to know someone than over a home cooked meal.”

            “Not what I was expecting. I’m intrigued. You take this more seriously than I expected. Should I be worried?”

            Bruce hesitated, “You should bring an appetite. When I cook, it’s family style. I never learned to go small.”

            “Name the day and time.”

            “Tomorrow six o’ clock?”

            “I can do that. How should I dress?”

            It was tempting to tell her to wear something black. And to let her stew over what he meant. But he didn’t want to frighten her off. “Casual. It’s just dinner at home. We’ll take in a movie if the feeling is right. No pressure.”

            “It sounds dreamy.”

            “I’m counting on it. See you tomorrow night Selina.”

            “See you.”

            Bruce hung up the phone, slipped it into his pocket, and smirked. When fate smiled, it smiled pretty damn big. He’d said they would meet again. It would be interesting to see how round two went.

 

            Dinner would be a simple affair. Bruce had chosen a favorite chicken primavera recipe that Alfred only made when he was feeling nostalgic. The smell of fresh thyme, rosemary, and cumin filled the kitchen as he silently worked.

            He’d already started the sauce on simmer and had began cleaning the chicken to be pounded, salted, then sautéed. Bruce would do a quiet vegetable on the side. Something plain but not too boring to compliment the robust flavors of the main meal.

            He’d learned to cook at a young age simply because Alfred had insisted. But then he’d enjoyed it and when the hours grew long and his work became overwhelming, Bruce would often find himself standing in front of the stove, throwing together something just shy of extravagant. He liked the process. The smells. The tastes.

            Smiling to himself, he’d already chosen a white wine to compliment dinner and took a long sip from the glass left on the counter to breathe.

            “Excellent vintage, Master Bruce. It smells lovely in here. I’ve never seen you cook for a woman before.”

            “She’s a special woman.”

            “Is she?” Alfred had entered the kitchen now and looked surprisingly sedate in his smoking jacket and slippers. He rarely smoked, but when he did, it was always with the jacket and slippers.

            “She’s different than anyone I’ve ever met.”

            A truth, though not all of it. He didn’t want to lead Alfred on as to what sort of implications this type of dinner could mean. But he also didn’t want to involve him. Things could end…ugly this evening. Particularly if he miscalculated and tipped his hand too far.

            Selina Kyle wouldn’t appreciate any sort of trickery.

            He remembered all too well how sharp those claws had been.

            “It’s none of my business.”

            Bruce looked up and smiled, “It’s always your business. You make it so. Going for a smoke?”

            “Indeed. I think I’ll take it out on the veranda with a spot of brandy. If she leaves early, you can feel free to join me.”

            Bruce chuckled, “And you expect her to leave early?”

            Alfred smiled, “One never knows with you.”

            “Is the security disarmed?”

            “Only the main gate as instructed. And I hope you don’t mind, but I also took the liberty of laying out fresh shirt and slacks in your bedroom,” Alfred surveyed him, “You could also do with a shave. But some women like that look.”

            Bruce was tempted to roll his eyes at the thinly disguised censure. “Thank you. Don’t wait up for me. It might be late.”

            “I won’t my dear boy. I’m too old to sit around and gab about your dates any more. It will have to wait till breakfast.”

            Grinning, Bruce parted with Alfred at the stairs and found the fresh clothes he’d laid out exactly where they always were. In uniform precision atop his bedspread as though a body were already lying in it. Alfred had even chosen a pair of fresh briefs and socks. It made Bruce shake his head good naturedly. The old man had always been a part of his life and felt dangerously immortal. As though he always would be, contrary to his graying hair and obvious slowing.

            Dressing quickly, Bruce ran a toothbrush over his teeth, checked his hair and nixed the shaving. He simply didn’t have time. He’d said it would be casual and he’d meant it. He’d already traded the slacks Alfred had offered for jeans and was thinking of ditching the button down. But again, he was cutting it close. He didn’t like to be late.

            Bounding down the stairs, Bruce reached the landing in time to hear the front door bell chime through the house.

            He checked his wrist watch and nodded with approval. She liked to be on time as well.

            Opening the door, he found Selina standing huddled by the door, drenched to the core. Her eyes all but glowed amidst the pinked crème of her skin and resembled a dreamy painting, rather than flesh and blood. He stood stupidly for a solid five seconds.

            “It’s raining,” she smiled brightly, “Can I come in?”

            Jerking himself and feeling foolish, Bruce took her hand and ushered her in quickly. “I didn’t even notice. I’m so sorry. You’re drenched.”

            “It was a bit of a walk from the car to your door. I insisted on the fresh air and asked the taxi to drop me at the front gate. I didn’t realize it was a mile more.”

            “Or that the heavens would open,” Bruce mused, watching tiny droplets from her shirt hit the marble flooring. “Let me get you a towel. You must be chilled.”

            “The rain is warm.”

            “Hmmm,” Bruce murmured, intent on getting her the towel and not thinking of the way her shirt was clinging to her every curve. It was like the leather, only far far worse. She wore a light pink t-shirt, meant to be gauzy and flippant. But it was sopping and stuck to her like a second skin. Her jeans hadn’t faired much better and though they left a little more to the imagination, they were no less distracting.

            Taking her to the kitchen, he handed her a couple of fresh dish towels and started pouring a glass of wine. Wordlessly, he gave her the glass and began working on his second.

             “It smells wonderful in here. Italian?”

            “Yes,” Bruce looked up from his wine and smiled, “I like comfort food.”

            “Who doesn’t?” she cradled the glass to her chest, “It’s like standing in an Italian villa. The herbs smell spot on. Garlic bread?”

            “Of course. Chicken primavera with steamed vegetables. I made limoncello for dessert.”

            “Pulling out all the stops I see. Your father must have taught you the way to a woman’s heart was to cook for her.”

            Bruce shrugged a shoulder, “My father died when I was young. Alfred, my butler, was really more of a father to me. He taught me everything I know.”

            “Oh,” she stammered, “I’m sorry. I walked straight into that one.”

            “I don’t expect you to know everything about me, simply because I’m in the tabloids.”

            “Still, I’m sorry. I should have remembered.”

            A timer went off on the stove and he moved to check on the sauce. It was bubbling and hot. The chicken was cooked through and looked tender. “I’ll just get the bread in the oven. It shouldn’t be more than a few minutes longer.”

            “Don’t rush on my account. I like the wine.”

            “Good. It’s imported.”

            “It tastes like Tuscany.”

            “Ever been?”

            Selina grinned, “Yes, many times. My family owns a villa there that I escape to when it’s convenient. I haven’t gone in a few years.”

            “Why is that?”

            “Because I’ve been busy.”

            Bruce nodded, “Life has a way of doing that. You know, I have a pair of sweats you could borrow. An old wonderfully ratty t-shirt that would swamp your figure. Even a pair of socks that might feel better than those dripping clothes.”

            “Really?” she straightened, “I’d be honored.”

            Bruce smiled, “Good. I’ll go fetch them. Don’t let the bread burn.”

            “Never.”

           

            Selina kept her word and didn’t let the bread burn. When Bruce returned with exactly what he’d described she felt eternally grateful and softened even more towards the man. He was different on so many levels than expected.

Cooking dinner in his own home? It wasn’t often she had the privilege of being surprised, but she was now. Getting to see a man right off in their element, another intriguing bonus. The fact that he filled out denim painfully well and hadn’t bothered to shave made him all the more appealing. And confusing.

The last she’d seen Bruce Wayne, he’d been picture perfect in a tux. Granted, there had been moments that she’d felt uncomfortable and distracted by those long looks he gave. But now, he seemed an entirely different man. Casual, warm, and charming.

His eyes were the only thing that seemed to have kept their demeanor. Always assessing and never quite calm. The purest of blue.

Having changed in the bathroom, Selina re-entered the kitchen and lifted a brow when she saw that Bruce had already set the kitchen table for supper. He was an enigma. One of the wealthiest men in the world and he was serving her a home cooked meal at his kitchen table by candlelight. He hadn’t even bothered to move it to the formal dining room.

She might be in love.

“This looks lovely.”

Bruce stopped lighting a tapered candle and looked up. Any expression on his face blanked and for once, Selina recognized it for pure male appreciation. It made her feel good to know he was as affected as she was. And it made her feel soft and feminine to know it was because she was wearing _his_ sweats.

“Cat got your tongue?” she asked, a brow lifted.

            He jerked a little, blinking, “Yes. I suppose it has. Somehow, you look even smaller and more female in those.”

            “Good thing. These sweats are totally ruining the look I was going for.”

            “And what was that?”

            “Casually chic.”

            He nodded, pulling out a chair for her. “I’d say the rain ruined that for you first. You looked like a damsel in distress on my doorstep.”

            “That explains the drooling then.”

            He laughed, “You’re very comfortable with yourself.”

            “Yes, is that a problem?”

            Bruce shook his head sitting opposite her, “No. Far from it. I like a woman that knows what she’s about. It makes it easier to be on equal footing.”

            Digging straight into the food, Selina barely contained a groan of pleasure. The taste was exquisite. “Marry me.”

            Bruce laughed, “Never had that happen before.”

            “Doesn’t every woman ask you to when they taste your food? God, it’s almost as good as sex.”

            “I don’t cook for just anyone.”

            She swallowed a mouthful, dabbed her napkin at the corners of her mouth, “There you go again, getting serious. It’s intriguing. But, also very off putting.”

            “I like you Selina. You’re different.”

            “And you could tell all that from our short acquaintance thus far?”

            “Yes, I read people well and I don’t need much time to do it.”

            Selina considered him, then nodded, “I can believe that. You watch very closely. A bit too closely sometimes, but I’m learning to get used to it.”

            Bruce reached for his wine, swirled it, “What do you do for fun?”

            “Fun? I’m always having fun.”

            “Hobbies?”

            “Collecting this and that. Antiques. I love animals and long walks on the beach.”

            Bruce smirked, “You seem like a cat person. And I’m betting you like shiny things best of all.”

            Selina smiled, “You have me pegged. It doesn’t seem fair. What about yourself? What do you do for fun?”

            “I cook, obviously.”

            “Haha. Seriously,” Selina forked a bite of dinner into her mouth and sighed happily, “Tell me more about yourself. I’m finding I like you the more I hear.”

            “Alright, I’m a workaholic. I keep hard long hours and I stay up most nights to ungodly times. I can be stiff and unmoving. I’m a bit of a control freak and I enjoy playing squash with a few of my friends on Sunday afternoons.”

            “Sounds…boring.”

            “I’m afraid it is. I keep a boring life. But I like exciting things, now and then.”

            She lifted a brow, “And am I, the next exciting thing?”

            Bruce sat back, half his plate empty, “Yes and no.”

            “I’m glad we cleared that up.”

            “You’re fast.”

            “As are you. So, tell me, boring Bruce Wayne, why did you really invite me to dinner tonight? I keep trying to figure it out. But I haven’t got a clue. I mean, obviously, we’re attracted to one another. But you’ve probably been attracted to a great many women and you wouldn’t bring them home to cook for. You certainly wouldn’t open yourself up to any chance of a person sneaking under that armor you wear so surreptitiously.”

            He smiled thinly, “I see I’m not the only one who sees too much. You play the game well.”

            “What game are we playing?” Selina was beginning to feel a bit like she was in over her head. Gone was the casual bachelor in jeans, here she was playing chess with a predator. And she was afraid she was losing. There was something about him tonight, something about the way he was looking at her that had her feeling as though she was being backed into a corner.

            “A dangerous one, Selina. If you’re finished, I could take you on a tour of the mansion.”

            She’d lost her appetite. Nodding, she let him take her plate and said nothing when he folded her hand into his elbow and began walking. They strode down a long elaborately decorated hallway and stopped only briefly at a few family paintings. He said all the right things. Retold a few interesting bits of history involving the Waynes in Gotham.

            But he was wound tight. She could feel it in his bicep and see it in the flex of his jaw.

            Something niggled at the back of her brain, but Selina couldn’t put her finger on it.

            Stopping at the library, Bruce toted her inside and began extolling the breadth of their first edition volumes. Selina decided she was done dancing. She waved her hand to stop him.

            “Bruce, why am I here?”

            “Because I like you, Selina.”

            “Yes, I know. And I like you. But that doesn’t answer my real question. There’s something going on and I don’t know what it is, but I don’t think I like it.”

            “I’m not sure that I do either.”

            She shook her head, nose wrinkling, “What sort of messed up game is this?”

            “It’s not a game,” his eyes had gone hard as diamonds and she stilled when he grabbed her arms, “Why would you run around at night, stealing things, when you have a family fortune to bolster your every whim? Why would you risk getting caught, let alone hurting every person who’s every cared about you, just for your own sense of thrill? Is it really that good? Does it really make you feel that powerful?”

            She slapped him. The snap of her palm connected hard enough it stung when she backed up and began shaking with rage. “How dare you? Who the hell do you think you are? You don’t even know me.”

            “I know enough,” he hissed, face violent. The shape of a red handprint was rising angrily on his right cheek.

            “You—you couldn’t possibly--,” Selina broke off and swore. “My God. I’m a fool. I’m such an idiot. It’s you.”

            He lifted a dark brow and waited a beat. “Who?”

            Furious with herself, with him, she strode back to him and gripped his shirt in both hands. He merely looked down his nose at her and glared. When she crushed her mouth brutally to his, Selina surprised them both. He didn’t bother struggling, but neither did he kiss her back.

The kiss was punishing. There was no softness or fire to it, nor was there any chance for emotion. It was painful, meant to confirm what she now knew. Those lips were more familiar than they should have been. His taste, very much the same.

            Tearing away from him, she spun and hissed with anger. “You just had to come find me, didn’t you? You had to ruin everything.”

            “I made a promise, Selina. I was going to keep it.”

            Tears sprang to her eyes and Selina fought savagely to control them. What did it matter that she’d really liked Bruce Wayne? She’d been apart of a ruse the entire time. Bruce Wayne was the mask and she’d only been a target. Batman was now standing in front of her and he certainly didn’t need the black Kevlar to confirm it. She could see it in his eyes and his stance. There was no mercy to be seen.

            She was trapped.

            “So, Bruce Wayne plays as Batman at night?” she snapped, suddenly unable to stand still. She paced in front of the fireplace. Unaware of how Bruce was vibrating with his own anger.

            “Again, you liken life and death to playing. This is why you’ve gotten yourself into trouble Selina. I did some research. You didn’t just start stealing things. It’s been going on since you were a teenager. Your father has been quietly making it go away ever since.”

            “And your point is? I stole pennies from high-end stores that wouldn’t miss it. I only got caught a handful of times.”

            “You were stealing!”

            “I was. But you can’t possibly understand what I was doing.”

            “Then make me understand.”

            She stopped, “Is that what this was? You trying to give me a chance to explain myself so you wouldn’t throw me into Blackgate with a dirty conscience? Why? Because I’ve got a great set of tits and make you fantasize?”

            “Damn it, Selina, don’t talk like that.”

            “Why not? If it’s true.”

            “It’s not true. I brought you here because I don’t want to send you to prison. Because I liked you and God forbid I had feelings for you.”

            “Feelings…”

            “Yes,” he growled, looking more beast than man, “I let myself feel something for you and I had to understand. I had to know how the hell Selina Kyle got herself mixed up in petty theft. Criminal doesn’t match who you are. What happened to you?”

            “Nothing.”

            “Is it kleptomania? A few different disorders in one?”

            “Stop it.”

            “I have to know. If it’s something psychological you can get help. I can take you to a mental hospital that will treat you fairly--.”

            “Stop it!” she screamed, tears breaking through her hold, “Just stop it. I started stealing as a way to cope. I was young but not too young to understand what I was doing was wrong. It didn’t matter. It made me feel better. It made me feel alive and I used it to help me survive. By the time my father had figured out what I was doing I’d already started a decade long addiction.”

            “Addiction,” Bruce said the word carefully, eyes strangely calm.

            “Yes, it became an addiction for me. At that point, it controlled my life and I wasn’t able to determine where or when I was going to steal something. I stole everything I could get my hands on. Then my father taught me how to control it. To steal only from people it wasn’t going to hurt.”

            “It hurts everyone.”

            “No, it doesn’t,” she swiped at her cheeks, “I started to be able to pick who I stole from. To cut it down considerably and to do it to people who I had a real issue with. It made all the difference.”

            “If you think you’re in control, you’re not. Addiction doesn’t work that way. You’re still feeding the monster.”

            “I’m thirty years old Bruce. I’ve been stealing for twenty years. I’m not going to stop. You should just lock me up if you can’t handle that.”

            “Why did you start Selina?”

            She went rigid, tears dried up, “That doesn’t matter.”

            “It matters,” he stepped nearer, his warmth comforting despite that he was threatening to ruin her entire life. She’d never been so open or honest with anyone. Not even her father and he was the only one that knew.

            “I don’t speak of it.”

            “Did someone hurt you?”

            She looked up, found those eerie cobalt eyes on hers and the part of her she showed to no one, finished breaking. “Yes.”

            “You were ten?”

            “It was the summer before I started my period. I remember I still had braces and hated them. I liked horses and wanted to be in the circus. My parents entertained my fantasies by sending me to my Great Uncle Howard and his stables for training. I liked the attention at first because it made me feel special. I was an only child and though my parents tried to be doting, they were often working and forgetful. Howard was attentive.”

            Bruce’s hand reached for hers and held firmly. “He abused you.”

            “Yes,” she was grateful he’d filled in the holes. “I was ten and he used me easily. I told no one. I let it go on for a year before I claimed to lose interest in horses and fell into a deep depression. I started stealing around the same time.”

            “God Selina, you were a child. You didn’t let anything happen. He forced it. He chose. Is he still alive?”

            “No. He died a few years later of a heart attack. I went to his funeral and acted like nothing was wrong.”

            They remained silent for a handful of minutes. Both warring with instinct, injustice, and a sense of morality. It was obvious that Bruce didn’t know what to do with her and in its odd sort of way, that was comforting too.

            Selina felt tired. And used. She hadn’t spoken of Howard to anyone save her stuffed elephant as a child and she stared longingly at the sofa by the fireplace. Without words, Bruce seemed to understand and moved them both to sit. She leaned heavily into him, uncaring that she was too weak to run. If he was going to lock her away, she supposed she deserved it.

            If he wasn’t, she’d be grateful, but it wouldn’t change anything.

            “What are you going to do Bruce?”

            He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, watching her cautiously, “I don’t know.”

            “The Batman wouldn’t let me go.”

            He laughed but it was acerbic, “You know now I’m not just the Batman. I’m weak as any other man.”

            “Because I’m pretty.”

            Bruce’s brows drew low, “Because you’re lovely. Inside, despite the ugliness done to you, you’ve remained lovely.”

            It was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to her. Selina refused to cry again. “I’m tired. Would it be rude if I fell asleep?”

            “No. I’ll wake you in an hour for dessert if you’d like.”

            She shook her head, “You are the strangest man I’ve ever met.”

            He looked sidelong at her, then crushed her last barrier by kissing her forehead. “I’m just a man Selina. I need time to think.”

            “That’s fair.”

            He rose, leaving her to stew on the sofa. “I’ll wake you in an hour.”

            Selina fell asleep before he left the room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shorter Chapter---more to come soonish

Bright sunlight came through the windows and spilled over the sofa. Selena woke to a monstrous headache and a crick in her neck. Scowling, she struggled upright and stared at the mantle of an unfamiliar fireplace. Dust motes danced in the slants of sunlight and the heavy tick of a grandfather clock kept time patiently.

            The night before came back to her like molasses coming out of a narrow tube.

            Blinking past the grit in her eyes, Selena stood and could have wept over the ache in her back. Her eyes were puffy and hair standing on end from sleeping on it damp. He’d let her stay the night on his sofa.

            For now, it appeared her execution had been stayed.

            Grimly assessing her appearance in the mirror in the hall, Selena padded her way in the direction she remembered the kitchen. She was hopeful there would be a cup of coffee in her near future to help send her on her way.

            It shouldn’t have surprised her to find an old man humming over the stovetop, dressed in finery and an apron.

            He turned upon her entrance and smiled politely, “Good morning Miss Kyle. Do you like your eggs fried or scrambled?”

            “I—fried I guess.”

            “Excellent. I’ll have them ready momentarily. Master Bruce is already dining out on the veranda. He said to tell you to join him when you’re ready.”

            “Alright.”

            She hoped the veranda had coffee. And an aspirin. “Not that way Miss Kyle.”

            Selena pointed the other way, “This way?”

            “Back past the library then make a left and the you’ll see the French doors are open to the patio. The temperature is supreme. I’ll follow shortly.”

            “Thanks.”

            She shuffled back the way she’d come and found the doors open onto a large sparkling patio. A six-foot fountain could be seen in the distance amidst an impressive Victorian style garden just beginning to bloom. Her family was wealthy, but this sort of wealth, was old money. The kind that bled history.

            Selena hardly noticed the man sitting at the patio table watching her until he spoke.

            “Hello.”

            She blinked tired eyes, then stared. Another transformation. He was golf resort Bruce today. Khakis, polo, fresh shave, and hair gel. He looked like the sort of man her parents would have chosen for her. Not like the dangerous one she’d come toe to toe with the night before.

            “Hello.”

            “Did you sleep well?”

            “Yes. Thank you. You could have sent me home.”

            “I could have.”

            She tipped her head, “But you wanted to keep me close. To keep an eye on me.”

            “I did. Sit. Alfred is making breakfast. He likes cooking for company.”

            Though it ought to irk her to obey, she sat and began greedily downing the cup of coffee already at her seat.

“Thanks for the coffee.”

“You’re welcome. Cream or sugar?”

“No. You guessed right. I like it black.”

He nodded, but it was clear his thoughts were elsewhere.

“Business today? I like your outfit. Very Ralph Lauren.”

“Matter of fact, yes. I have a meeting in an hour. I thought I’d enjoy breakfast with you

first. Discuss some ground rules before we parted.”

            “Ground rules.”

            He lifted a brow, sipping silently on his coffee.

            “Go on.”

            “You can’t steal anymore Selena. I can’t allow it.”

            It was her turn to lift a brow. “And prey tell, how are you going to watch my every move and control me without putting me in prison?”

            “I’m not. You’re going to do it yourself and as we’re both adults, I’m going to trust you’re going to stop on your own.”

            “How?”

            He smiled, a reckless sort of grin that made that dimple press deeply into his cheek. She was glad her slap hadn’t left a mark. “By working with me.”

            “Say that again. I think my ears are ringing.”

            “Work with me, Selena. You enjoy the thrill. You want a purpose and a mission. I can help you. You like the physicality of being Catwoman and the chase. I can offer all of that to you. My work is difficult and rewarding. If you work with me, you can replace the unhealthy for the…less unhealthy.”

            “By catching criminals.”

            “Yes,” he bit his lip, as if considering something foul, “Unless you’d rather I cuff you now and drop you off at the police station on my way into town. I can phone Gordon and have the holding cell ready.”

            “I need time.”

            Bruce watched her over the rim of his coffee cup then nodded. “Fine. Twenty-four hours. But if you run, I’ll only chase you. And if you make the wrong decision, I have to take you to Gordon. Twenty years is long enough. It’s time for a new chapter in Selena Kyle’s life.”

            She snorted, then smiled prettily when Alfred came to join them with a tray of food. He set toast, eggs, and melon sliced into birds on her place then served her like a true butler. “It looks delicious.”

            “It is, my dear. Is Master Bruce treating you well?”

            She looked at Bruce and shrugged, “As good as can be expected. Will you sit with us?”

            “Oh no. I’ve far too many chores.”

            “I’ll bet Bruce is a real slave driver.”

            Alfred’s smile was bright and full of mirth. “Oh, he has his moments.”

            Bruce merely watched them quietly and began eating his breakfast without comment. Alfred whispered something in his ear, patted his shoulder, then left the way he’d come. Though the exchange was all business, it was clear the two had a great love for one another. Selena could appreciate that sort of bond. She’d cared deeply over the years for many of the staff in the Kyle home. One of which she still called for advice from time to time.

            She and Bruce ate in silence. When he stood after checking his watch, she assumed it was time for his business meeting.

            “I’ve instructed Alfred to assist you in anything you might need. He will show you out when you’re ready to leave. Your clothes are dry and set out in the guest bedroom on the second floor. If you’re feeling particularly snoopy, be careful which drawers or cabinets you open. I have some of them booby trapped.”

            “Oh,” Selena couldn’t help but to smile at him, “A man after my own heart.”

            He paused at her side, surprising her by touching a hand to her cheek, “Don’t make the wrong decision Selena.”

            Her throat wanted to snap closed. “I’ll do my best.” 

            “Oh, and don’t let Triton frighten you if he sees you walking around by my bedroom. He’s old and doesn’t have a sense of humor. He only bites if you move too quickly.”

            She shook her head, “Should I even ask what Triton is?”

            Bruce smirked, “He’s a dog Selena. An old dog that I adopted from the pound too many years ago to count. You should be pleased.”

            “I am.” Surprisingly so.

            “I’ll see you tomorrow. Twenty-four hours.”

 

            He’d waited the last twenty-two of Selena’s twenty-four-hour grace period poised over his cell phone, like some homicidal maniac desperate for a fix.

            It shouldn’t have mattered so very much to him. But it did. It mattered a great deal.

            Scowling at his laptop through blurred eyes, Bruce removed the wire frame readers from his nose and sighed. He’d been scrolling through his social media accounts, updating, cajoling, and bantering with the usual suspects. It was a necessary evil to upkeep, though he usually saved the duty for when he was enjoying a few fingers of brandy. Tonight, he’d been too restless to relax in the study with that particular treat.

            So, he’d chosen his bedroom and sat Indian style in the middle of his bed with the heating pad warming an aching low back and his sour mood as companion.

            She should have called by now. He checked the time on the clock over his mantle steadily keeping time and wished for the hundredth time that Selena would have already made her decision. The right one. Hadn’t he been persuasive enough? He’d given her an exemplary alternative, one that didn’t end with her behind bars. She should have been ecstatic, lunging at the opportunity.

            Then again, he understood her need to think over her options. Especially after she’d opened herself and had shared such personal details about herself. Details he’d never be able to forget, let alone detach when he thought of her.

            His cell rang and he startled. He fumbled a moment to swipe the screen when the familiar number flashed.

            “Yes?”

            “Bruce.”

            “Selena.”

            A wealth of emotion with such a simple exchange. Bruce felt the muscles in his back relax and he reclined into the pillows. “Cutting it a little close, don’t you think?”

            “I knew you’d be up.”

            He gave a short laugh, “Wanted to make me sweat it out?”

            “No,” she made a humming sound, “Maybe. I wanted to be sure.”

            “And are you?”

            “Yes, very. I’d like to work with you,” he started to congratulate her on a decision well-made, but was stopped, “I have conditions.”

            “Of course you do.”

            “Nothing unreasonable, Bruce. I’m a vain woman. I’m not giving up my costume. I like it. And I’m not going by some Bat related nickname. Catwoman suits me.”

            He shifted in the mattress, eyes suddenly heavy now that the worst was over. Victory was making him drowsy. “Yes, it does. I can’t see you any other way.”

            “Good. When should I come by?”

            “Hmmm?”

            “Are you listening to me? You sound like you’re about to fall asleep.”

            Amusement tinged her voice and something so achingly familiar that Bruce smiled into the phone, “I’m listening Selena. But it’s late.”

            “No patrolling tonight then?”

            “Even the Batman has to take a night off every now and then.”

            “Can I come by tomorrow night? To see where I’ll be working?”

            He inhaled the scent of clean linens and the fresh clippings of grass from the open windows. The yard crew must have come by earlier. “Yes. Just text me when you’re on your way. If I’m not home yet, Alfred will entertain you.”

            “Good. Good.”

            There was a long pause, then a sigh, “Bruce, thank you.”

            “No Selena, thank you. I couldn’t be happier to be welcoming you to the team.”

            He heard the line disconnect and smiled contentedly when he let his one phone drop to the mattress. Without bothering to shut off the lights, or to put away his laptop, Bruce sank into the covers, turned up the heating pad, then fell asleep almost immediately.

 

            Bruce studied the bat console with half of his attention, acutely aware of the time and who would be joining him. He should be filing through the Baxter murder files Gordon had given him. Or picking through the evidence he’d collected from the sewers when he’d rooted out Killer Croc’s second hideout.

            Without complete focus and discipline, he was a hazard.

            Bruce blew out a breath of frustration, then shoved back from the long glossy desk.

            “Rough night?”

            To his credit, he didn’t startle, but he’d come very close to.

            “Selena,” Bruce stood, smiling cavalierly at her as though she’d been meeting him in this sanctum for years. “It’s good to see you.”

            She stood hip-cocked, wearing her Catwoman getup and a taunting expression. “I liked the directions you sent me. Heavy encryption and lots of fun to follow. It was like reading a treasure map. And now that I’m here,” she trailed off, head swiveling as she studied the interior. He’d like to say that he wasn’t pleased with her appraisal. But he was.

            “It’s taken me years to perfect the image I always had in my head.”

            She lifted a graceful black brow, “Don’t tell me you dreamt of playing in Bat guano and dressing up in pointy ears as a child?”

            “Not quite.”

            “Good. You had me worried.”

            Striding the length of the room, Bruce didn’t wait for Selena to follow, but rather assumed it. Her boots sounded hollow on the corrugated metal flooring and they quietly traversed the walkway towards the training room. Stepping inside, the lights flickered on automatically and displayed an impressive array of equipment. Everything from weights, heavy bags, and an elliptical to the more allusive jujitsu dummies and gymnastic bar sets.

            He’d been collecting for years. Honing what he liked best. Bruce had spent his early twenties training with men from all over the world. He’d picked what had worked best for his methods and melded it into a sort of symphony of deadly tactics. Looking at the training room with an untrained eye, one might assume he was obsessed with lethal fitness.

            They’d be right.

            Selena whistled, shaking her head as she surveyed. “Impressive. Makes you wonder what else you like to splurge on.”

            Bruce’s mouth twitched, “There are few things I find more worthy than exercise equipment. Though I’m usually tempted to add to my collection of DVDs on occasion.”

            “Movie buff?”

            “I would classify it more in the fanatic range.”

            “Mmm,” she smiled pleasantly, green eyes seeking his, “And you train every day? Hours a day?”

            He shrugged, “It comes with the territory. You’re welcome to train here as often as you like.”

            “I’m not as rigorous in my…focus. I like to exercise when it calls for it. But I’m not obsessive. How often do you patrol?”

            “Every night if I can manage.”

            “Really?” she tapped long claws on her crossed arms, “No wonder you have those pretty bags under your eyes. I’m not certain I can match your gusto Bruce. I’m more of the part-time sort of woman.”

            “I figured as much. I’m not going to push you to keep the same hours that I do. But I do expect the hours you want to be traipsing around in that outfit to be on my time. With me.”

            “Are you saying I can only go out if it’s with you?”

            Bruce considered her a moment, “For now.”

            She ran her tongue along her teeth, “I don’t like being held down.”

            “I imagine you’ll get used to it.”

            Selena snorted and somehow managed to make it feminine, “God Bruce. You’re a kill joy. How do you manage to attract so many women with that surly attitude?”

            Bruce felt his jaw flex and he forced himself not to react. It was only natural they’d experience some growing pains as they went through this transition. She’d never worked with anyone else before. Especially not someone who was basically going to babysit her for the first couple of months.

            “You’ll have free reign of the cave. Though the computer system is only accessible to myself. I keep everything locked tight.”

            Selena frowned, “Wonderful. Anything else I should know?”

            “I got you something.”

            “You did?”

            Bruce ignored the flutter of guilt he felt when her expression lightened to pleasure. Grabbing the bangle he’d prepared just for her off the worktable, he smiled blandly then reached for her arm.

            “What’s that?” she asked abruptly, refusing to give her wrist.        

            “It’s a remote GPS.”

            “Like one of those house arrest anklets?”

            Bruce shrugged, “More or less.”

            She made a hissing sound, “No. I won’t do it. I won’t be collared like an animal and kept tabs on. I’m here. I’m following your rules. But I won’t do _that._ ”

            “You’ll do it, or you’ll go to jail.”

            Bruce saw the way her hips turned, the threat of violence flashing brightly in her verdant gaze and he tensed in preparation.

            “Listen,” she purred, stepping nearer, biting her lip as if to hold in a slur of curses. It had the effect of making Bruce’s stomach hollow and his gaze pulled to that mouth, “I’ll play nice. I like you. I really like you. And I find this bad boy act with those haunting gray eyes enough to make me weak in the knees. But I’m not going to wear a collar. It’s not in me.”

            “I’m sorry Selena. This is the deal. If, after a couple of months I see you’re not going to try and run, then I’ll reconsider. But for now, it’s this, or nothing.”

            Her chin rose, defiance running deep. “No.”

            He sighed, “I didn’t want to do this the hard way.”

            She laughed, part venom, part excitement. “Oh, but I like the hard way. It makes things more interesting.”

            She didn’t wait for his attack, but rather leapt forward and pounced. Prepared for this reaction, Bruce jerked back into a handspring and neatly closed the door to the training room with them inside. Growling, Selena aimed her claws at his unmasked face and went wild. Stuck with purely defensive moves, Bruce stopped most of the blows but still managed to garner one lovely cut along his jaw.

            Irritation blossomed, deepening as she fought all the harder and he struggled to keep her at bay. The bangle had been dropped and remained several feet away, and with Selena wrapped firmly around him like a boa constrictor, legs clamping hard over his middle, he had little choice but try reasoning with her again.

            Or risk cold cocking her.

            “Selena, think it through,” he gritted out, breath coming in small gasps past the pressure of her legs. “This is your only option.”

            “No, it isn’t,” she snarled, digging in her claws as he gripped her thighs and began to loosen her hold. When he managed to free himself she screeched then dropped back. A half second later, she had her whip in hand and stood over the bangle like a lion protecting her cub.

            Bruce rolled his neck, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

            “Oh, but I like it rough, and I really, really want to hurt you.”

            He sniffed, rubbing at the blood that dripped down his chin from the open cut she’d left, “You’re good. But I’m holding back. Let’s not start this partnership on such bad terms.”

            “Then don’t put that thing on me.”

            He shook his head, “It’s a precaution.”

            “It’s demeaning.”

            “An orange jumpsuit would be more so. This is a break and you know it.”

            She flipped the whip and instead of dodging it, Bruce let it wrap in a burning cuff around his forearm. Mistake one. She was fighting with emotion. Mistake two, she didn’t care if she lost. Just as long as she took a chunk out of him on her way down. He could see it in the desperate shadow of her eyes, the way her movements were jerky instead of fluid.

            Using his advantage in strength, Bruce tore the whip right out of her hands and tossed it to the floor. Once again on equal terms, he expected Selena to use more common sense. Perhaps try to destroy the bangle at her feet or dart around him to the door.

            She didn’t.

            She charged head first like a bull and he caught her around her waist then flung her to the floor. Air rushed out of her lungs, her eyes went wide, then he pinned her from shoulders to toes and used all of his weight to keep her there.

            Eye to eye, slightly out of breath himself, Bruce shook his head, “Stop fighting me.”

            “I hate you!” she spat, literally spat at him. If he’d not been so shocked, he might have moved out of the way. As it was, he simply stared at her with spittle on his cheek. Was this the same woman who had spilled her heart on his sofa? The same woman who he’d been softened to putty over?

            No. This woman was hard. Harder than he’d realized and it sent a sliver of steel into his resolve to break her. If she was willing to fight him this hard over something as simple as an insurance policy, then she’d not easily give up her penchant for stealing either.

            “Stop,” he demanded quietly, pressing her harder into the floor. It made him only more aware of how small she really was. How breakable she could be if he applied enough pressure.

            She struggled more, squirming, hissing.

            “Stop, Selena. This only ends one way. With me winning.”

            All at once, she went still and Bruce’s gaze jerked back to hers. She’d gone limp beneath him, her eyes shuttered and suspiciously watery. It made his chest tighten and his instinct to free her nearly impossible to deny.

            “Alright,” she whispered.

            “You’ll do it?”

            She levelled him with an expression full of hate. “Yes.”

            Trusting her would be a mistake. But as he couldn’t reach the bangle without letting her up, he saw no other way. Loosening his hold by degrees, he finally stood, leaving her sitting pitifully where they’d laid, then retrieved the bangle. She did little more than hug herself after he’d clamped it over the narrow bones of her wrist.

            Finished, having won, he felt like a slug. A dirty rotten slug.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to be uploaded. I'm working on chapter five now and should have it up within the next few days. I want to have it done by the end of the long weekend. Thanks for reading!

           She dealt with it how she dealt with everything else.

            By pushing through.

            No matter how difficult. No matter how painful or humiliating. No matter how infuriating, she always pushed through. Selina Kyle was no quitter. 

            Selina let loose a feral snarl and punched a fist hard enough into the dummy’s head that it rocked precariously then toppled over. The sound of its demise was cacophonous in the empty gym. Slicked with sweat, breathing like she’d run a marathon, Selina started stripping before she got to the showers.

            She was alone.

            _He_ wouldn’t be back for hours still.

            Grimacing at the throbbing in her knuckles and the pain singing in her muscles, Selina flipped the shower onto scalding and didn’t pause before stepping under the spray. It felt a little like a punishment and she relished the pain. She relished the feeling of control it offered her nearly as much as a good steal might.

            God, she missed it.

            Leaning against the tile wall, Selina allowed herself a brief moment to remember the tingle of something bright and off-limits in her hands. To feel the cold touch of a jewel that didn’t belong to her in her fingers or the slick chill of some precious metal that no one really needed anyways.

            She never really kept any of it. Not really.

            But of course, there were exceptions. A rare few finds that even now graced a hidden safe in her apartment. She kept those for her own enjoyment and on special days would strip naked just to feel the glory of wearing millions of dollars-worth of someone else’s fortune, and only that.

            The rest of what Selina took, she kept for a brief time and then quickly disposed of. She liked to look at them. To study the sparkle or glimmer of whatever she’d managed to pilfer and then she enjoyed giving it away. Usually to some unsuspecting homeless stranger who could use a bit of luck. But sometimes a child. Or a complete stranger walking down the street who look harried and tired.

            Selina felt itchy.

            Itchy to take. Itchy to feel in control and powerful. To feel—safe? She felt like a goddamn junkie desperate for a fix.

            Maybe she was.

            Frowning into the hot spray, Selina lifted her right arm and curled her lip at the sedate security bangle Bruce had forced on her. It was virtually impenetrable. And oh, how she’d tried to loosen, rip, or destroy it.

            Nights like this, when she was alone in the cave and fighting every inch of her own selfish needs, she would feel especially desperate and try just about anything to be rid of the bracelet.

            It was why Bruce had made her wear it. She knew, deep beneath the layers of resentment and itchy dissatisfaction, she would have already been out on the street, looking for another target. She’d already have something new and shiny in her safe if it weren’t for Bruce.

            That didn’t make this any easier. Or make her feel any less ready to tear his head off anytime she saw the man.

            She’d been clean for exactly twelve days. Twelve very long and quiet days. Days which she avoided Bruce, but took advantage of the Batcave’s extensive gym equipment. She’d never been more into pounding something with her fists.

            It was probably why the abused knuckles hurt so damn much.

            When the water turned cold and Selina was nothing more than a ruby red prune, she finally got out of the shower. She took one of the thick towels stacked in tidy rows by the exit, wrapped one around her torso then used another to make a turban on her head.

            Thankfully, she’d had the foresight to bring a pair of clean sweats to change into.

            If she’d happened to bring along her favorite lilac lotion and a bottle of red nail polish to stash in her private locker, that wasn’t saying much. She hadn’t forgiven Bruce. She wasn’t getting comfortable here.

            Not really.

            The rumble of a v8 engine distantly hummed and Selina stiffened at the sound.

            Somebody was home early. Scowling, she tossed the towels, grabbed her lotion and slathered it on thickly. With little fuss, though it was extremely tempting to stop and preen in front of a mirror, she was in the sweats and stalking to her string of dirty clothes she’d left in a trail from the gym.

            When she’d gathered her things and stood with her bag over a shoulder, Batman was sitting in front of his computer panels, the dry sound of keys clicking away.

            “Selina,” he mumbled, but didn’t look at her, “making use of the gym?”

            “Yes.”

            He typed something else, clicked out of a few windows then powered down the screens. Turning, he pushed back the cowl then sighed when she made no move to say anything.

            “My offer to join me on patrol is open-ended. Whenever you’re ready.”

            Selina lifted a brow, “Soon.”

            “I know we haven’t really talked,” he started down the steps that separated the computer level to the main, one hand gripping the rail as he went. The closer he got, the more tense, Selina felt her muscles go. To run away, or to run to, she couldn’t be certain.

            He made a cutting image. Half-bat, half-man. Sweat matting his hair, streaking his cheeks and neck. His eyes were dark as navy and harder to read than usual, but they coolly assessed her like a case he found troubling. Selina suspected it was because he was as uncomfortable with her now as she was with him.

            Ever since the…collaring…they’d been strained at best.

            The snap of electricity was still present, but the taut feeling of betrayal and anger made things bitter. At least on Selina’s end. She hadn’t been ready to move on.

            She pushed back her sleeve and eyed the bracelet on her wrist with a sardonic smile, “You mean we haven’t really talked since you forced _this_ on me?”

            Those navy eyes dropped to her wrist, then were back on her face, “Yes. I still stand by my decision.”

            “I don’t want to argue.”

            “Alright.”

            She frowned at him, struggling and failing to leave like she’d envisioned. She hadn’t been this close to him in days. And she wanted to hear him speak more. To share the same air for a little while longer even if it meant having to put the bracelet behind them. So to speak.

            “Rough night?” Selina gestured at him vaguely and he smiled thinly in return.

            “Not exactly.”

            “Oh?”

            “It’s summer. And hot. I called it an early night.”

            She snorted, “The Batman got overheated.”

            He laughed dryly, “The Batman did a great deal of work before calling it night. The fact that he was sweating his ass off made it an easier decision. Besides,” he glanced at the panel on his wrist, “It’s nearly three in the morning. Not too early.”

            “You usually stay out till five.”

            He lifted a black brow, something like amusement marking his mouth, “True. You know my schedule.”

            “You’re predictable once you know what to look for. I’m a good study when it comes to people.”

            “You’d have to be.”

            They both don’t say that she’d have to be good at reading people in order to have gotten away with stealing for the last twenty years, but they don’t need to. To go over something that has already been gone over, would be kicking a dead horse. Selina didn’t want to talk about that tonight anyways. She wanted to keep pretending she wasn’t mad at him.

            “Since it’s relatively early, do you want to join me for a drink? Tea or brandy? Or a bit of both?”

            The invitation was tempting. Very tempting.

            “If I accept,” Selina eyed him carefully, lifting her chin when his gaze swept delicately over her every line in a manner that was more study than admiration. “That doesn’t mean I’m not still angry with you.”

            The corner of his mouth lifted and he turned for the showers that were still steamed from when she’d left them, “Of course not. I’ll be upstairs in twenty. Make yourself comfortable.”

            Selina watched him walk into the locker room. She let herself stand rooted to the cave floor, listening to the spray of water drum into tile for a breath, maybe two as images of the great Bat showering filled her head. Then she quietly took the stairs up to the manner and found herself rifling through Bruce’s kitchen cabinets for a snack.

            Finding a box of Lucky Charms, she nipped the half-gallon of milk in the fridge, poured herself a glass then sat at the table to enjoy. It made her feel like a child to be up in the middle of the night, eating sugary cereal while she was swimming in sweats and still damp from her shower.

            It was nice. Drugging, really, in the best sort of way.

            By the time Bruce came to join her, dressed in a gray t-shirt and his own baggy black sweat pants, Selina had finished her milk and had her feet propped on another chair to help hold up the box of cereal she was heartily digging into.

            Bruce lifted a brow at her choice, but silently said nothing as he moved around the kitchen.

            She could easily picture him as a child here. Getting into the cookies on the counter in that jar that looked too tempting even for an adult. Drinking out of the milk carton and getting scolded. Slipping around in socks on the hardwood floors and bellowing like a banshee, during a game of cops and robbers.

            Had he done any of those childhood things? Or had Bruce Wayne been similarly dark and brooding as a child? Equally introspective and steady?

            “What are you thinking about?”

            Selina blinked up at Bruce when he pushed her feet off the nearest chair. He’d grabbed the brandy and was pouring it into a hot cup of tea. It smelled heavenly.

            “Nothing.”

            When he lifted a brow, she shrugged a shoulder.

            “Want some?”

            “I’ll just steal a couple of sips from your cup.”

            Bruce smiled indulgently, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He looked distant now, his mind far off, probably still picking away at a case he was working on. The tea tasted like Earl Gray and was complimentary to the brandy. Bruce had given just the right amount of both.

            “Yummy.”

            “It’s a favorite of mine.”

            “I can see why. It’s delicious. Though I’m surprised you picked something hot after patrol.”

            He wrapped both hands around the mug then took a deep drink, eyes sluggishly closing, “I’m a creature of habit. I like what I like.”

            “In other words, you’re just as stodgy as that butler of yours.”

            Bruce licked his lips, “I was raised by him.”

            Selina laughed, tossing another handful of Lucky Charms into her mouth. “And a lovely young man you turned out to be.”

            “Alfred did his best. But I’m sure he has his moments where he wonders what went wrong.”

            “Doesn’t every parent?”

            Bruce took another long sip, lapsing into silence and Selina let him. She liked this side of Bruce. The quiet, sleepy one, that was relaxed enough to share the kitchen like they’d been doing it for years. It was miles away from the unrepentant, solid wall of a man who’d forced the bracelet on her wrist.

            A bracelet she was growing more and more accustomed to.

            And it wouldn’t be on forever, would it?

            He’d said it was temporary. For a time. Until she could be trusted.

            Selina very nearly snorted at the path of her thoughts and the pendulum of emotions they evoked. From wanting to shred the man in front of her, to wanting everything but his heart. And then, maybe that too. She liked him. She liked him maybe a bit too much for her own comfort.

            “Selina?”

            She blinked, finding those navy eyes fixed on her with their all-seeing, unflinching gaze. Selina hoped to God her thoughts had not been so transparent.

            “Yes?”

            “The case I’m working on currently, I could use your expertise.”

            “My expertise?”

            He pursed his lips, “Antiquities acquisition.”

            “Stealing.”

            “More or less. I’m trying to take someone down who’s very good at stealing artifacts but not before replacing them with very good fakes. I’ve tracked down the paper trail to several warehouses where I thought the manufacturing of the fakes could be happening, but they were already closed down. Whoever he is, he keeps the bulk of his operation light and mobile. This guy is good, but I could use a fresh set of eyes on the case. My most recent leads are coming up cold.”

            “I’ve stolen countless priceless items over the years. I’ve got a unique perspective.”

            “Exactly.”

            Selina shook her head, closing the cereal box she’d nearly finished off. “What’s his motive?”

            “Money is the primary goal. He’s pocketing a hefty chunk of change when he sells them on the black market. But from my preliminary psychological study, he’s also extremely narcissistic and needs to feed that ego.”

            “Do you a put a psych profile together for every criminal you take down?”

            Bruce leveled her with a carefully guarded look, nodding over his mug.

            “Do I have one?”

            “Yes. But your case is closed. I sealed it.”

            “I want to see it.”

            “It’s sealed,” Bruce said again, eyes narrowed as Selina shook her head.

            “I still want to see it. If we’re going to be working together now, it only makes sense that I get to know what you had on me. It builds trust between us.”

            He contemplated for no more than a handful of seconds, but it was clear he didn’t like it. “Fine.”

            “Good,” sighing, Selina pushed back from her chair and stretched to her toes, hands reaching up to the ceiling, “God, I ache all over.”

            Bruce chuckled, “You’ve been working out more.”

            “Whose fault is that?”

            He lifted both hands in surrender, then stood to deposit his mug and Selina’s empty milk glass in the dishwasher. She didn’t miss how he also grabbed a few paper towels and cleaner to wipe down the counters and table. It looked habitual. And it was strangely—cute. Very domestic of him.

            The Batman cleaning his countertops with OCD precision. It made her smile.

            “It’s late. I’m going to head home.”

            “Any of the guest rooms is available to you at any time. Clearly, we have the space.”

            Selina looked over his shoulder at the dark hallway and strongly considered it. It was almost four and she was tired.

            “You don’t want me darkening your mansion in the morning.”

            Bruce stepped nearer, near enough Selina could smell the scent of soap on his skin. “You could only brighten my morning.”

            “I bet you say that to all the women.”

            He smiled weakly, “No.”

            She lifted a brow, determined not to be softened by that promising mouth or those dark eyes. But she wanted to taste the brandy on his tongue. She wanted to push her fingers through that damp dark hair and take a fistful of it, just to anchor herself in this moment because it was good. And it was warm. And it was—soft. She hadn’t felt soft or good or warm in days. She’d been too busy feeding on her own anger and sense of entrapment.

            But now, she wanted to feel differently and capture it like a snapshot. 

            Selina might have been the first to initiate the kiss, but Bruce deepened it, his arms coming around her shoulders like mooring points and she sank into him. His mouth wasn’t hurried on hers, but rather how she’d wanted it, firm and giving. He tasted like the tea and brandy and when she did bury that hand into his hair to fist it, he sighed into the kiss and took it just a tad deeper. Just a tick more desperate and wanting.

            Selina savored it. Savored it until he was molding those hands to her back like he wanted to take more and then abruptly backing up a step.

            Red-lipped and hazy-eyed, Bruce Wayne looked good enough to eat when he pushed a hand through his hair and had to pause to catch his breath. Selina wasn’t much better off, but it was a heady feeling to know she could do that to him. It was another sip of the control she’d been lacking these last two weeks and this too, she savored. More so because he’d let her have it.

            “You’re still welcome to the guest rooms,” Bruce said after a spell of careful breathing, his expression shuttering beneath the gloss of ease once again, “I hope you do.”

            “I think I will.”

            “Good. I’ll take you there.”

            They walked side by side in the dark halls, neither one breaking the dreamy quality of the peace between them. When he deposited her at her door, lingering in the doorway, Selina couldn’t help but to reach up to her toes and take one more kiss. This one was chaste, just a press of lips, but unbearably sweet.

            “Sleep well Selina.”

            She smiled, unzipping her sweatshirt on the way to the bed, not bothering to look back at him. “You too Bruce.”

            The soft snitch of the door signaled his departure, but Selina stayed awake for at least another hour, keenly aware of his lingering touch on her skin.

            She wanted more.


	5. Chapter 5

“I’ve decided he should be called the Anti-thief.”

Batman was running, feet pounding into gravel rooftops, breath even and steady with the cadence of his pulse. Selina was just a buzzing in his ears. He grunted in response, not really paying attention as he shot the grapple and felt the line go taut, tugging the muscles of his forearm all the way to his shoulder.

“Bruce, did you hear me?”

“No names on the comm.”

“Oh,” there was a little purr of annoyance, shuffling papers, “Sorry Bat, I’ll try to be more careful in the future.”

He swung in a wide arc, damp boots catching the lip of the next building as he dropped to a crouch, then skirted the hulk of an air conditioning unit that droned loudly. Selina was murmuring again, soft words tickling his ears and he went still to try and catch some of it.

“—wish you would listen to me when I’m talking. Sometimes I have good things to say.”

“Cat, I’m working. I can’t always answer.”

She snorted, “Yeah? Well, I’m bored.”

"Should have come with.”

Her silence was telling, and Batman shifted his weight as he dug around in his utility belt for the tear gas capsules he was looking for. Beneath layers of concrete, fiberglass, and insulation, he could picture the weapons exchange like a master does his chess pieces. The pawns would come headlong with the bishop or a knight and be swallowed up by the checkered backdrop. It wasn’t a new image. But one that he’d be disrupting in a matter of moments.

“Are you there?”

“You know I am.”

“How long does this usually take?”

Batman sighed, glancing down at the screen on his forearm to judge time. He’d been on patrol for a few hours and he’d likely be out a few more. Especially after this. He usually left clean-up for Gordon and his cops, but with a bust this big, he had to stick around to relay pertinent information. He liked to touch bases and wrap everything up nice and tight.

“Anxious to see me again?”

Selina made an impertinent sound over the comm, “Maybe. I’ve been looking at those files you gave me. On our Anti-thief. I’ve got some ideas I want to share with you.”

Batman’s brows lifted, “Anti-thief?”

“I told you that’s what I want to call him.”

“Why?”

"He steals antiquities and he always puts a really good fake in its place. Anti—for both. Sort of. It doesn’t make a great deal of sense when you make me spell it out. But I like it.”

Batman choked down a laugh and shook his head. “It works. I’ll be happy to listen to everything you have to tell me about our Anti-thief when I get home. Until then, I’ve got to finish what I started,” he crouched by the smudged skylight he was going to use as an entrance, “Feel free to keep listening in. I like the sound of your voice in my ear.”

 

Selina and Bruce had settled into a careful rhythm that she was beginning to enjoy. She liked listening in on the comms when he was working a case. But she also liked keeping to the shadows and skirting the edge of his patience by his side. He wasn’t exactly a team player, but he also put up with her presence with a wry smile and a bit of dry humor.

She liked both.

She liked him.

It was sort of like playing their old game of prey and predator. Lion and mouse. She batted at him, occasionally using claws and teeth and he responded appropriately with the proper amount of overbearing alpha male posturing. Almost as good as when she’d been running from him above smog skirted skyscrapers with a sparkly bangle in her pocket.

There was something oddly refreshing about knowing anything she did with the Bat, wouldn’t just be for the simple momentary pleasure. It was for a greater good. Because he insisted that it be.

Selina hadn’t expected to like that aspect of their relationship as much as she did.

And although she’d had some good ideas about the Anti-thief, they could only bide their time until his next attempt and hope they’d be there to intercept. Or at least, gain more information on him. Selina liked the man’s style (if indeed the perpetrator was a male). He was sleek and quick and obviously incredibly smart. Probably a bit egotistical. But she understood he had a right to be.

The Anti-thief had exceptional taste in art and was replacing what he stole with some downright impressive fakes. If she wasn’t so smitten with him, she’d probably hate him for the competition he created. But of course, Selina Kyle was now a reformed thief and didn’t do that sort of thing anymore. At least when she was awake. Her dreams however…oh, yes, Selina dreamed of taking all sorts of expensive frivolous things and stashing them away where the Bat could never find them.

Running around rooftops, dispatching criminals and trying to dissect the mind of the anti-thief was almost as good of a high as stealing had been. Almost.

Kissing Bruce? That was better.

Selina pushed her sweatshirt sleeves up to the elbows then plinked out a few more pages in her notes on the Anti-thief. She’d come up with a more than plausible based off her own studies in anthropological and psychological studies. Having higher education was expected after all for the daughter of one of the richest families in America. She’d also systematically cataloged background, in-depth motives, and credible suspects. It was possible Bruce might even be proud of her.

It brought a wry smile to her mouth to imagine him pouring over her swirling script with narrowed gaze over one of his perpetual cups of coffee. The man lived off caffeine and pain killers.

Finished, Selina stretched from her desk and yawned loudly. Isis curled imploringly around her ankles and she picked her up happily.

“Oh, pretty girl, how are you?”

Isis stared back solemnly, eyes a tawny shade of gold.

“I know. It’s been a long day. Shall we celebrate? Ice cream?”

Selina pushed the cat to her shoulders and walked to her kitchen to peer into the frozen bits of her ice box. She had two cartons of Rocky Road to her name, half a frozen ham, and a box of waffles that were terribly freezer burned. Ice cream would suffice. She didn’t need real food anyways.

By the time Selina had polished off one of the cartons and was getting ready to call it an early night, she heard him slip in from the kitchen. She didn’t pay any mind to the fact that her skin erupted in gooseflesh when she caught sight of him, or that her heart skipped up to pulse erratically in her throat. Those were normal reactions to being caught unawares when a visitor dressed like a giant bat snuck into your home.

“I thought I wasn’t going to see you today.”

He loomed like a black wraith in her doorway, his shoulders broad and eyes dark. Fat drops of rain were dripping off the Kevlar onto her gray carpeting, but she couldn’t be more pleased to see him standing there like he owned her place.

“I’m a glutton for punishment.”

“Are you?” Selina purred, stepping near enough to smell the city on him; smog, sweat and just the touch of coppery blood. It shouldn’t have been so utterly alluring. She could see the stubble on his chin and the weariness in his cobalt gaze. He looked tired and worn thin and it was oddly concerning. Batman was an icon and symbol that didn’t need rest or get weary. Bruce was just a man and Selina happened to like both men.

“You should take better care of yourself Bruce,” she mused, reaching a hand up to trace the line of his jaw. His eyes fluttered closed at the contact, a soft sound of countentment slipping past those too-perfect lips. It was second nature to kiss him now, to feel his mouth eagerly press into her own, tit for tat. To taste Bruce on her tongue like she’d been doing it her entire life and that he belonged to her and her alone.

Heady, overpowering, clawing need.

It bubbled between them and made Selina feel lightheaded and weak. She leaned heavily into the folds of black draped over the Bat’s shoulders, reveling in the shroud it created and sighed when he broke the kiss. For a moment, she hadn’t expected him to stop and hadn’t really wanted him to.

“You taste like chocolate,” he rumbled, voice deeper and rough with need.

“I ate ice cream.”

“Mmmm.”

Selina looked up at him again, trying to gauge his mood, trying to see what he wanted and if she could give it but found those eyes staring at her with blistering intensity.

“Rough night Bat?”

He pushed hard fingers through her hair, paused, made an aggravated sound then removed his gloves and gauntlets with heavy thuds before diving back in. His fingers felt hot on her scalp and Selina leaned into the touch, though it wasn’t particularly soft and let him draw her mouth back to his. They kissed slow, like there were minutes upon minutes to simply waste and the Bat had all the time in the world. He had no where else to be and no one else he wanted to be with. Selina liked to imagine he felt as desperate in this fractured moment as she did.

It was that electrical arc between them now that had always been there, from the first moment they’d crashed together and it certainly wasn’t elegant. It was messy and dark and questionably sane. Selina let the Bat take them deeper, let him grab the back of her baggy sweatshirt so hard she could feel the fabric strain on her collar bones. And it didn’t feel like he was asking for something, it felt like he was demanding. Like any moment, he’d simply crumple and take and take and take.

She wanted him to.

“Fuck,” Batman hissed, tearing away from her, suddenly giving her his back. “I shouldn’t have come here like this.”

“Why?”

“I’m not—” the Bat still hadn’t turned, his shoulders were hunched in tight and strung so taut they looked painful, “I shouldn’t use you like that.”

“I’m not going to break.”

“That’s not the point. I don’t do that.”

“Lose control?”

He growled, low and feral and Selina felt the shiver rush up her spine. “I would hurt you.”

“I’m strong.”

He bent, picking up the discarded gauntlets, the empty husks of gloves then started jerkily putting them back on. Selina kept her distance, aware there was something going on, but not sure how to proceed. If she pushed him, she was certain he’d bite like a viper being cornered, but she could also feel the pulsing need for _something_ from him. The broiling oil-slick needs she was seeing weren’t simple or clean. They were dark and it brought the slippery feel of her own darkness to the surface. His black wanted hers.

“Bat, don’t go.”

“I’m not good for you right now.”

“Then who are you good for?”

His silence was answer enough. No one.

Selina stared at him, jaw clenching tight around the words she wanted to say but wouldn’t right now. “I’ll always be here.”

He didn’t answer. When he disappeared out the squeaky slider with barely a whisper of rain-slicked boots, she stood staring after him for so long her eyes burned.

 

“Master Bruce, you need to hold still.”

“I’m trying.”

The soft tug of needle through flesh made Bruce’s stomach twitch and he looked away for the rest of Alfred’s ministrations. He’d been having a rough week. Check that, a rough month and even though he hadn’t seen Selina since that night in her apartment, he’d been plagued with thoughts of her. An infection that had gone so deep it felt septic. His organs were shutting down. His ability to think and process information became more and more difficult as he lost sleep and pushed his physical body too hard.

“You’ve torn a muscle in your back. It will need time to heal.”

“I know.”

Alfred cleared his throat, snipping the threads of a freshly tightened knot, “No nocturnal activities for at least two weeks. Three if you’ll allow it.”

Bruce sighed, gingerly testing the tear by rolling a shoulder. “I’ll do my best.”

Hard, brown eyes found Bruce’s and held steady, the calm in a maelstrom, “You’ll do as I say.”

There was a time when Bruce had argued till he was blue in the face with Alfred. And there would be times in the future, where it would have merit. But sitting on a surgical table in the med bay covered in sutures dripping like an open wound, Bruce didn’t have it in him. He slipped off the exam table, weaved a little, then straightened.

“I’m going to head to bed.”

“Shall I call Master Dick?”

The word no was on the tip of his tongue. He hated to ask, hated to even need to. But they both knew even if he pushed Alfred’s timeline for healing, it would still be a significant time out of commission for Batman.

“Yes.”

“Very good, sir. Let me help you to your room.”

He fell silent for their short jaunt up the long stairs that lead into the Batcave and then up the length that lead to the master suite. By the time they’d reached his door, Bruce was leaning so heavily into Alfred’s wiry frame, they were both slicked with sweat.

“A bath?”

Bruce shook his head, “I need sleep.”

“Alright.” Alfred said nothing about trashing the Egyptian cotton sheets. But they both knew Bruce would.

Pulling back the covers, Alfred helped Bruce into the soft embrace of the mattress and tucked the blankets up under his chin. Bruce felt very small and very young when Alfred looked at him like that.

“I know you’ve been quiet on the matter, but shall I call Miss Kyle as well? She’s phoned the manor a couple of times in the last week.”

Bruce sighed, feeling his eyes slip closed without his consent, “Yes.”

“Rest Master Bruce.”

And he did.


End file.
